At the small desk in her bedroom she tried to focus, Stay positive, use your time creatively, don’t become bitter, and don’t let it ruin you. She rubbed her face with her hands and began to breathe deeply. Shifting her papers she began to redirect her thoughts to the project at hand. Slowly she lifted her pencil and began to draw. The children were in bed asleep; she glanced at the clock – 8.50pm. Mmmm I’ve got a good two hours before I get too tired, two hours out of the entire week, no wonder I achieve so little. Time to get stuck into it c’mon focus.
Instead she sat frozen pencil in hand staring at the wall. She had seen him before, he had come into the café a few times when she coffeed with the girls. Tall light brown hair peppered with gray, good build, and intelligent looking – the sexiest attribute of all according to Chi’. He wore the uniform of the guy anywhere between 30 and 50 years old, the look screamed credibility. Worn out jeans a t-shirt (never ever new) and expensive or at least interesting looking shoes the ‘I’m Not Trying’ look yet it is all very carefully considered, down to the deliberately disheveled hair. At first she felt a rush of color to her cheeks and a change of temperature in the vicinity of her underwear. It had been a long time between ‘lusts’, averting her eyes she hoped the coffee crew had not noticed. By the time the bill came she had ‘had’ him more than once in the comfort of her own fertile mind.
He had insisted on helping her to the car with some heavy shopping bags she was struggling to with. After brushing against her squeezing between two parked cars, they fumbled briefly and very quickly wound up having sex against the side of her car, the button through dress wound up around her waist, and him cradling one leg in the crook of his arm sucking at her nipples, his lips were unbearably soft. Not a clue what the girls were on about, too busy taking heed of her fertile imagination. Mmmm. Fine. Damn Fine.
Now he had ambushed her quiet time, she sat there gnawing away on the end of her pencil, swinging her foot absentmindedly while feeling the heat again. Her nipples became so erect it made her shudder. My god what am I thinking? She jolted herself into reality. Draw you idiot draw. You have two hours to come up with ideas for Scarlet’s Mural.
Scarlet and Toby went to school together, when Scarlet’s mother Anna had seen the paintings on the wall and ceiling of her sons bedrooms she ordered one promptly. Scarlet’s birthday was less than two weeks away and armed with three of the birthday girls picture books Chiara sat and tried to feel inspired. Chi’ scribbled down a few ideas down; but there was the restless yearn gnawing at her turning her thoughts to mush. Abandoning her meager effort she undressed and slid into bed, turning off the bedside lamp she closed her eyes and focused.
There were the standard fantasies of ‘Look But Don’t Touch’, ‘One Lover a Dozen Hungry Spectators’, ‘Sex with the Doctor – the Stranger, – the Unattractive Neighbor (just for the sake of it), ‘The Slut Fuck’, and of course the ‘Begging for more Bang’.
But tonight she might take the time to tailor one for him. Lying on her back running her hands along her hips a wild smile met the darkness.
Dressed – well dressed she would meet him on board an aeroplane, both returning from a business trip. In flight drinks and chemistry, much flirting. A quick trip to the rest room to remove her panties. Some touching and lingering eye contact and a mad desire to fuck. His fingers inside her before they land. They stumble from the plane hand in hand engorged with anticipation. Finding a vacant family room cubicle he locks the door and bends her over the hand basin and maneuvers him self into her. The grubby floor, the thrusts, staring into her own knees, legs splayed as her head sways and jars with each movement. It was the kind of white hot intensity that made her back arch and jaw clench. She enjoyed this strangers company.
35 minutes later sweat soaked and satisfied Chiara had released her demons and was finally nodding off with a sly grin. She loved that she could have such an illicit affair in
the comfort of her own mind…and bed. Guilt free.
I Struggle; I struggle to remain within the constraints of my life as it exists…
Strong currents pull and draw me.
Abstinence while pursuing unobtainable personal of perfection.
Madonna whore syndrome…
Even the anguish is pleasurable.
I pride myself in being good…